


Vodka and Chocolate

by slamncram (GettheSalt)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Baking, Drinking, M/M, Skimmons - Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 23:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10319951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/pseuds/slamncram
Summary: Daisy and Jemma are out of town, the weather's reporting flooding levels of rain, and Leo and Grant are cooped up in the house. What were they supposed to do? Leave the bottle of vodka alone?





	

Grant wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten here, but if pressed, he would probably say that it had started with a barely broken in bottle of raspberry vodka.

The weather reports had been warning everyone, for a week, that the hurricane that was coming would probably weaken by the time it hit land, but it would still bring something of a torrential downpour with it. That was what they had been expecting, and the reports hadn’t been wrong. Daisy and Jemma had been across the country, visiting Daisy’s parents, and their flight had been delayed coming back. That had meant that getting the ‘potentially flooded in’ essentials had fallen to Leo and Grant, and they had managed, for the most part.

They had the non-perishables, the water, the blankets, and batteries and candles. They were ready in the case of an emergency, but that didn’t seem to be what was happening. Yes, the power had gone out across town, but they were sitting in the kitchen, drinking vodka out of champagne glasses, candles lit _only_ for the mood, while a particularly chocolaty batch of cookies sat in the oven, baking away.

“You have flour…” Grant said, reaching out and deliberately smearing the flour on his own thumb over the end of Leo’s nose. Leo jerked away, but not in time, and came away with a white nose and a peal of laughter.

“Shite. We’re drunk, aren’t we?”

Grant looked at the bottle of Raspberry Absolut on the table, and shook his head. “No, no. It’s only three quarters empty. It _was_  about a quarter down. We drank half? So we’re _tipsy_.” He squinted at Leo critically. “Besides. You’re Scottish. Can’t you hold your liquor?”

“Oh, yeah, when I’ve had more to eat than a few chocolate chips beforehand. _You_ are definitely a little drunk. Your cheeks are all rosy.” Leo grinned, lifting one of his feet to put it against the edge of Grant’s chair. He held his palm out, and Grant high-fived him without missing a beat. “Look at us. Surviving a hurricane on vodka and chocolate chips.”

“We do damn fine work.” Grant agreed, tipping his head back to finish the vodka in his glass. It burned on the way down, but it was worth it. What better way to waste away the afternoon? “Cookies smell good.”

“Mmm.” Leo leaned his head back, turned towards the oven. The green numbers above the elements read 00:31. “In thirty seconds, we get dinner. Or is this lunch?”

“Jemma would kill us if she knew we were having cookies and vodka for dinner. Obviously, it’s lunch.”

Leo pointed at Grant emphatically, standing as the timer went off. “Right you are, Mr Ward. Lunch is served. Sort of.”

“They have to _cool_.” Grant pointed out, standing up and grabbing the oven mitts. They were Daisy’s, one the flag of the United Kingdom, the other the United States. They were, she said, a symbol of their housing situation. The Special Relationship: two Brits and two Americans under one roof. “Or we will burn ourselves.”

Leo opened the oven door with a flourish - unnecessary but appreciated - and Grant bent to pull out the cookie tray, setting it on top while Leo closed the oven door again. The cookies had spread out nicely, and some of them had attached at their corners. While Leo topped up their vodka glasses, Grant took off one of the mitts and used a spatula to split the cookies up.

After he’d finished, Leo appeared at his elbow with a big plate and a smile. “They’ll cool better on this, by the window, with us.”

That was a point that Grant could have argued - they were sitting at the table and by the window, yes, but it wasn’t open - but Leo was very persuasive right now. That may have had a little bit to do with the alcohol, but Grant didn’t bring it up, just did as Leo was suggesting and lifted the cookies, one by one, onto the plate, until the cookie tray was empty. He shut off the oven, and then joined Leo at the table again, breathing in the warm, rich smell wafting off the fruits of their labour.

“We’re better at this than I thought.” Leo was saying, leaned over the cookies. He gently poked one of them with the tip of his finger, and nodded, muttering something under his breath, before sitting back again and putting his foot back on the edge of Grant’s plate. “I’m hungry.”

“Well, all you’ve eaten is chocolate chips. Also?” Grant took a sip of his vodka. “You’re _always_ hungry.”

Leo made a face, swirling his glass idly. “Not true. There is a period after every meal where I’m not hungry. Also, when I sleep.”

Grant laughed, and shook his head. The wind picked up outside for a moment, spattering the window next to them with rain, loudly. He frowned at it, and then looked back at Leo. “This keeps up, the girls won’t be back for days.”

“Which means we will need to fend for ourselves by making _more cookies_.” Leo pointed out, and then leaned forward again, poking at the same one as he had before. “Good enough. Split this one with me?”

Nodding, Grant leaned forward and took the other side of the cookie between his fingers, bending it upwards when Leo did. It broke across the middle, the melted chocolate chips stretching between their halves before breaking apart. The first bite of the cookie was warm, and soft, and rich, and exactly what Grant had been wanted, and he hummed his satisfaction.

“We are _master_ chefs.”

“Bakers,” Leo corrected him. “And you’ve got…” He touched the side of his own mouth, and Grant reached up, swiping at… Nothing. “No, here.” Grant swiped again, and came away, once more, with clean fingers. “Bloody _hell_ , man, the other si– You… You know what?”

Leo set down his half of the cookie, and stood up, moving into Grant’s space. His fingers tipped Grant’s chin up, and his thumb swiped over his lip. That time, Grant _felt_ something come off, and when Leo held his thumb up to his eyes for inspection, he saw the smear of melted chocolate on the pad of it.

“Oh. _That_. Well, it’s mine, so…” Without pausing to think, Grant grabbed Leo’s wrist, holding his hand still so he could stick his thumb in his mouth, tongue rubbing over it, taking off the chocolate. It was only once the chocolate hit his tongue that Grant realized what he was doing, and looked up to find Leo watching him, looking lost somewhere between shock and something else.

Letting go of Leo’s hand, Grant gave him a small, tentative smile. “Sorry. Wasn’t think–”

“–No, no. Don’t. Just…”

Grant knew what was coming. He had been waiting for it for what felt like months, now. You couldn’t live with the person you had feelings for, and not see when they, maybe, started to come around to feeling the same. He’d been waiting, hoping, telling himself - and Daisy, when she brought it up - that he was just being the victim of some seriously bad wishful thinking. All of that had been going through his mind, while all of this had been brewing between them, and now, when Leo leaned down, Grant leaned up, reaching to slide his fingers into the hair at the nape of Leo’s neck when he kissed him.

Of all the times that Grant had imagined it, he hadn’t pictured _this_ scenario. The two of them inside on a hurricane-tail rainy day, the kitchen warm from baking, and Leo tasting like chocolate and raspberry vodka when they kissed. Somehow, it was better than anything he had come up with. Leo had been letting hsi stubble grow out, and it rubbed against Grant’s chin when he pressed forward, parting his lips to suck Grant’s lower one gently, one hand on Grant’s shoulder, the other on the back of his chair, holding himself up and away.

The second he drew back, Grant did away with that. His hands went to Leo’s waist, and guided him into his lap. The kitchen chair wasn’t entirely big enough for both of them, but somehow, that didn’t matter. What mattered was the shy grin on Leo’s face when he leaned his forehead against Grant’s.

“This isn’t just because you’re _drunk_ , is it?”

Grant laughed, soft, lacing his fingers together on Leo’s other side. “No. Because I’ve been after this for months, and I’ve only been drinking for the last few hours.”

“Months.” Leo traced his thumb over the curve of Grant’s jaw. “I guess we have time to make up for, huh?”

“Guess so.” Grant smiled up at Leo, warm from more than just the vodka and fresh cookies, now. “Take another bite of our lunch. I want to kiss the chocolate off your lips.”


End file.
